


Matters of consent

by Garunala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Sam, Non-Consensual Kissing, Panic Attacks, Past Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Post-Cage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garunala/pseuds/Garunala
Summary: Dean drags Sam to a bar. It brings back memories Sam would rather forget.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I´m really not sure about this one, but I figured I might as well post it.
> 
> Please be aware that there are references to rape and torture in this, there´s nothing really explicit but still, if you get triggered you shouldn´t read this.
> 
> As always feedback is more than welcome as long as it´s constructive and I´ll gladly fix any mistakes so don´t hesitate to tell me if you find anything. I´m sure there are quite a few since English isn´t my native language.

Matters of consent 

The club is loud and overflowing with people, sweaty bodies pressed against each other, moving in a complicated, chaotic choreography. The music is like a heartbeat, filling Sam´s head until it feels like a living, breathing thing and leaving no room to think. 

He´s lost Dean in the crowd a while ago, the last he saw his brother there was a sexy brunette hanging off his arm and he doesn´t bother searching for Dean, knows he´s either in the bathroom getting blown or in the car, buried deep inside her warmth. 

Sam´s sweating, the air is hot and humid and the feeling of so many people around him, his escape routes closed off, is stifling. He shouldn´t have come, no matter how much Dean nags him about getting out more. His head isn´t in the right place and he fucking knows it, it was stupid to give in. 

Someone brushes against him and he reels back, skin prickling where it was touched and chest constricting. The air suddenly smells of blood and smoke instead of sweat and perfumes mixing together, the music sounds like screams and Sam is panting, trembling as he turns, desperately searching for a way out. 

He spots a gap in the crowd and heads for it with long strides, keeping his eyes off the dancers as much as he can because they look like writhing, tortured bodies all of sudden and it brings images to his mind that he´s worked hard to forget. 

The gap closes and he wants to cry with frustration, panic pounding in his chest. He´s trapped, trapped, trapped, no way to get out, no way to escape, only a matter of time until he´s strung up on the rack again and Lucifer´s hands are buried inside of him, rooting around in his guts and pulling parts of him out like a curious kid. 

Phantom pain makes him jerk, the mind melting agony of the devil´s touches fresh as ever in his memory. He wants to forget so badly, wants it to never have happened, isn´t sure he can live through it again and stay sane. Isn´t sure he hasn´t gone insane already and wonders for a moment if he´s really topside or if this is just a hallucination, caused by Lucifer to torture him or his own mind in an attempt to escape. 

But no, he´s out, he´s out, Dean promised, Dean- The lack of his brother´s presence sends Sam reeling, his grasp on reality, weak on the best days, slipping away steadily.  
Arms wrap around his neck, the mockery of a loving gesture Jess was fond of, and then hot lips are on his, pressing insistently. They taste of blood, Sam´s blood, and sulfur, they always do, and he freezes. 

Not this, god, not this. He can take anything, anything but this, and he knows that´s exactly why it always comes back to this. Lucifer knows him, knows him inside and out, and he´s made sure he owns every last part of Sam. 

He knows it´s futile, knows it will only serve to amuse Lucifer, or set him off worse if he´s unlucky, but he can´t bring himself to stop trying each and every time, feels like not fighting back would be too close to consenting. 

So he whimpers, pleads, “No, please, no-“against the offending mouth and forces his heavy arms to lift up, to push. 

Through a miracle the heat of the body pressed against his vanishes as Lucifer lets go and backs off, and Sam´s heart stutters in confusion before the illusion disappears and he finds himself back in the club with a pissed off girl in front of him. 

The pretty, obviously drunk blonde gives him an offended glare, muttering something about uptight assholes before slinking off, but Sam can´t bring himself to care as he stumbles forward and finally, finally gets to the door. 

He pushes it open and all but falls outside, a strangled sob ripping from his throat, and barely makes it to a few bushes before he throws up violently. His legs give out and he lets himself fall, pulling his knees close to his chest protectively. 

The night is clear and cool, the air smells like grass and exhaust and it´s suddenly very obvious he isn´t in hell, so obvious he wonders how he could have ever thought otherwise. His skin feels too tight and he remembers Lucifer peeling it off one time, cutting it into stripes and gently pulling until it came away while Sam arched his back and whimpered, throat too raw to scream anymore. 

Sam´s mouth tastes sour from vomiting and he´s bathed in sweat, but those are real sensations that only serve to ground him. He´s out, he´s not in the cage anymore, and the rest of the panic fades, leaving behind a hollow ache in his chest that´s oh-so familiar these days. 

Pushing away the nasty voice in the back off his mind that tells him he should stop lying to himself and accept that he´s not topside, that he´s stuck with Lucifer for all eternity, Sam stands up on shaky legs and starts to walk. 

He´ll return to the motel room when he´s exhausted enough to fall asleep right away.

It will keep the nightmares away, if he´s lucky.


End file.
